


Newton's Law

by IAmTellNoOne



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTellNoOne/pseuds/IAmTellNoOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An opposing force is met with an equal and opposite force. Hope against defeat. Love against hate. When Sam's world is crumbling around him, can he find something equally great? Or maybe something even greater?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee. All credit goes to the writers of that TV show. I just wanted to use two of the characters they left to the wayside for my own enjoyment. 
> 
> Hi everyone! I'm moving all of my work from FF.net to AO3 because it's an easier platform to write on and manage. I don't know if I'll ever properly finish Newton's Law, but I might be moving towards working on it once again. :) Until then, enjoy the re-posted and edited version! 
> 
> I also wanted to say that I'm working on self-publishing a book! It'll hopefully be done by July, so keep an eye out for that! Happy reading! 
> 
> Follow me on WordPress: stephanierhesa.wordpress.com  
> Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Rhesa/302270376473191

Saturday, April 2, 2011  
The Motel Six  
2:26AM

Sam's hand stroked the polished oak of his guitar. His head bowed and his left hand grasped the neck of his instrument. The strings made soft sounds as he played them gently. He felt like his life was over.

He'd known this was coming—this inevitability. He'd known it would happen eighty-nine days ago when everything truly went to shit. But now that the moment was literally looming on the horizon, Sam found that he could barely swallow the panic.

His guitar, his baby, had been his prized possession since he was eight years old. Nine years with this same guitar and it still looked quite new. Sam made sure to take good care of it. He polished the body every week. He tuned it every morning before school. He changed the strings as soon as they were worn, and it always went into its case at the end of the day.

This guitar had been with him for nine years. Nine. Sam could hardly believe it, really. Learning to play this instrument had led to numerous nights of frustration, many bleeding fingers, and calluses. In a way, his guitar was a pseudo-best friend. Something that had replaced the overwhelming loneliness that came with being the shy boy from Tennessee.

It had been there when his grandfather died and he'd stayed up all night trying to figure out how to play difficult chords. Sometimes, when faced with his intermittent insomnia, it was the only thing that got him through the night.

It had been there when he'd gotten his first crush and when the sharp sting of rejection hit him after a dismal attempt at asking her out. He'd had the guitar when he'd gotten his first kiss. He played a song on this guitar—the first one he ever wrote—to his first official girlfriend. Ironically, the song was how he'd asked her out and subsequently the guitar helped him through his first breakup.

This guitar had been with him through it all. The discovery of his extreme love of all things sci-fi—Star Trek, Star Wars, Call of Duty, Spiderman comic books, and finding the author Orson Scott Card. It had been there when his parents first told him what was going on.

His mom lost her job first. He'd watched the toll that took on her—even more so when she couldn't find another. Overqualified, they'd said. It was a huge blow to his mom's ego, and her belief in higher education. They struggled, but they got by.

Two months later, his dad lost his job, because of a company downsize due to the recession. And Sam watched the panic and the fights that came solely out of them being stressed. Sam had played his guitar more frequently than ever. And his parents searched. Overqualified. Overqualified. Again and again, over-fucking-qualified.

They tapped into their savings, but slowly they couldn't afford anything without emptying everything. Stevie and Stacey's college fund went first. And before long, they gave up. They hadn't paid the mortgage in five months, and they received the eviction notice right before the New Year.

That night, his mother had thrown the fancy leather book that held her doctoral certificate, against the wall. The book cracked and so did Sam. He got a job working as a pizza delivery boy, but on the third of January, they'd been evicted.

Sam had never been so humiliated and depressed in his life. He played until his fingers bled and then some.

For eighty-nine days, they'd been staying in a one-bedroom suite at the Motel 6. His parents had sold everything they possibly could to pay for it all—food and rent. They had barely enough to keep them going. And by day forty-two, Sam's income from the pizzeria went towards food, and then paying for the hotel, and gas money for his parents to continue their search for work.

By day seventy, it wasn't enough, and his mom had pawned her wedding ring. Sam pretended that he hadn't heard her tears that night. The next morning, his dad left without eating breakfast. He didn't return for three days, and when he did, his wedding ring was gone as well. They'd only sold for about 350 a piece, but it would last them four weeks of motel rent, with Sam's money paying for food.

He couldn't watch them go through that again. He could hardly stand it before, but his parents looked as though their joy was completely gone. Sam did as much as he could. He watched, cared for and fed Stevie and Stacey, his seven-year old brother and sister—they were fraternal twins. He made his parents dinner and kept the place clean in between school, Glee club rehearsals, football practice and work.

His stress showed. He was exhausted all the time, and quieter. He played aggressively on the field, just to get some of his fury and worry out—so he wouldn't mistakenly take it out on his siblings. He sat by himself in class and Glee club, and he didn't linger around to chat with people anymore. He did his homework in the breaks he had between class, rehearsal, and babysitting. It still wasn't enough.

But now, Sam was going to make the sacrifice. Watching his parents suffering in silence was no longer an option for him. Sam was going to give up the one thing that gave him joy—his guitar. He would sell his guitar. In the morning.

Nine years of constant companionship and friendship would come to an end in less than eight hours. Call him a baby, but he could feel the tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He felt so hopeless already, but he'd never felt alone—not with his guitar, but that would be gone soon.

He knew he had friends, but none of them had even picked up on his situation. And he was glad of it. Kurt and Quinn were the only two that had any idea about this whole dilemma. Kurt because Sam had to deliver a pizza to his private school one day, and the brunette had called him out on his bullshit.

Quinn was in the know because they'd been dating when his parents had lost their jobs. It didn't help that they went to the same church. If it had been his choice, no one would've known. But after all this, he was grateful to them for their help. They helped babysit—though Stacey wasn't as fond of Quinn as she'd hoped for, but the girl adored Kurt. And Kurt gave him clothes to wear—the plainest items he owned, plus some that he stole from Finn.

Kurt had laughed at the face Sam had made when he'd pulled a pair of glittery riding pants from the box. It made Sam quirk a smile when he realized that Kurt had been playing. Sam shook those thoughts away, and glanced at the cheap watch on his wrist. He was taken aback to see that it was almost three in the morning, but at this point, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

He clutched his guitar to his chest and stood up from the wooden porch in front of their motel room. Sam glanced over his guitar once more and took in the intricate swirls and prints carved into the polished oak. He had to blink away tears, but he couldn't stop the persistent few. They rolled down his cheeks without permission and he quickly wiped them off. Sam forced himself to ignore the burning behind his eyes or the sniffling of his nose. He cleared his throat and picked up his instrument.

He would do this for his family. Stevie, and Stacey, and his parents—they meant more to him than an old guitar. Feeding them, keeping them clothed, and a roof over their heads—that was worth the sacrifice he was making.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop it from hurting.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam encounters a woman named Lynette Orchid and may have found a way to save his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. 
> 
> I've been wanting to do some prompt writing while I re-edit Newton's Law. Hopefully, by the end I'll having my muse back! Until then, I'm taking Samcedes fic requests! If you'd like me to write a short (~1,500 words) please send me a prompt via Tumblr! :) 
> 
> Follow me on:  
> Tumblr: [IamTellNoOne](http://iam-tellnoone.tumblr.com/)  
> WordPress: [Stephanie Rhesa](http://stephanierhesa.wordpress.com/)  
> Twitter: [@StephanieITA](https://twitter.com/StephanieITA)  
> Facebook: [Stephanie Rhesa](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Rhesa/302270376473191)

**Saturday, April 2, 2011**

**The Music Shop**

**9:59AM**

Sam walked inside the double doors of  _The Music Shop,_ the strap of his guitar case thrown across his shoulders. He glanced around at the rows upon rows of old-fashioned albums with covers of Diana Ross and the Supremes and Elvis Presley. The walls were a weird purple color with a golden sheen streaking across each wave and bump in the paint. Over the walls, there were metal grates that held instruments up—drums, flutes, clarinets, cellos, and guitars.

Vintage pictures and concert posters were all over the place and Aerosmith's  _Dream On_  was playing in the background as he looked around warily. As ridiculous as it was, his palms were sweating and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He knew he looked like an idiot. His fingers were white-knuckling the leather strap that hung across his torso. This was like stepping into a pit of snakes knowing that you were going to get bitten.

He wanted to turn around and walk out so badly that Sam had actually made it back to the door, before the shop owner made her presence known.

"Well, hello darlin'," A velvet voice greeted cheerfully and Sam froze in his tracks—his hand extended towards the door. He closed his eyes—fighting with himself for a moment. He had to do this. The thought of him returning home empty handed and seeing the loving looks on Stevie and Stacey's faces tormented him. Who knew that blonde-haired and blue-eyed kids had the power to inflict torture?

Taking a deep breath, Sam dropped his hand and made himself turn back around. The shop owner gave him a soft smile, and Sam returned it with a weak grin that he was positive looked more like a grimace.

"Don't just stand over there, honey, come on," she told him. Sam walked over to the woman behind the counter, his steps slow. He observed her from afar. She was pretty, that was his first thought.

Chocolate skin tone, bright hazel eyes, and loosely curled black hair that fell right past her jaw in an asymmetrical cut. She had short bangs that fell across her forehead in a diagonal line and she wore a sleeveless purple sundress with a square neckline.

Sam blushed as he admired what of her figure he could see. He finally reached the counter and she smiled brightly, causing laugh lines and crow's feet to appear near her eyes and lips. "Child, you're up and about quite early on a Saturday morning. I couldn't get my kids out of bed before noon if I tried." She joked, and Sam shrugged awkwardly.

The woman looked him over and something told Sam that she could see more than he was comfortable with. He shuffled his feet. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Uh, Sam—Sam Evans, ma'am." He replied and she grinned.

"Well, Sam, my name is Lynette Orchid, but I prefer Lynn." Lynn stretched an elegant hand towards him and Sam fumbled with his guitar strap for a moment, before shaking it. She smiled again.

"Now, how can I help you, darlin'?"

"Well, uh," Sam stuttered, before he mentally slapped himself. "I need to sell my guitar for some cash."

"Honey, you know that the pawn shop is down the street, right?" she asked him and Sam felt himself flush a bright pink. He scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck, full of nervousness and dread.

"I know, I just—"Sam was so flustered that he couldn't even organize his thoughts. He was so ashamed of himself at the moment. He couldn't believe how much of a baby he was being. It was just a stupid guitar. The frustration was making him emotional; he could already feel his eyes watering.

"Fuck! I'm being such a brat." He cursed aloud by accident, and his eyes snapped up to see the startled and concerned look on Lynn's face.

"Darlin'?"

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Lynn, I came here because I needed to sell my guitar and I thought that I'd have a better chance here, than at the pawn shop," he said, his voice shakier than he wanted it to be. Lynn looked at him in concern.

"Well, I'm almost positive they give money for instruments. A couple hundred easy if the guitar is in good shape." The rejection hit Sam like a solid punch to the stomach. He was thankful that there was no one else in the shop to watch this humiliation.

***

Lynette watched the handsome boy in front of her emotionally crumble right before her eyes. He had looked so scared and timid walking into her shop that she'd wanted to mother him on the spot. The poor kid looked exhausted with dark circles under his eyes, unkempt hair, and a pale face.

As soon as he'd started talking, she knew that this was going to be interesting and as she watched the steady reddening of his eyes—she knew it was going to get worse and she also knew she was going to get involved. She couldn't stand it when children cried and watching Sam, she felt like this was worse than crying because he refused to let those tears go.

Before he even turned from the counter, she had given in. "Sam, darlin', tell me what's wrong."

He looked at her from behind wet eyelashes. His green eyes looked so desperate for some form of companionship that she felt her heart constrict. In that moment, Sam reminded her of one of her own babies, and he was hurting something fierce.

There was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had never felt so convicted by something in her life. All she could feel was the stringent need to help this boy and she didn't even know why. He could be acting for all she knew, but studying his worn clothing and the cheap watch and the less-than-stellar shoes on his feet—she could just tell that he wasn't.

"My family—they need help, and—"Sam whispered, "selling my guitar—the money will help them." Lynn could feel her heart pounding.

She could almost feel the shame and unhappiness radiating from this boy. For a moment, she found herself praying. For a family she had never met and probably never would. For the first time in a while, she asked God for some kind of guidance.

"How much do you need, darlin'?" she questioned and Sam let out a bitter laugh.

"A place to live would be a start," he muttered and Lynn got her answer.

"Well, let's see the merchandise," she said with a smile and Sam only nodded back at her. When he'd lowered the case to the counter and unzipped the bag, Lynn's eyes almost popped out of her head.

"Sweet baby Jesus," she breathed as she gaped at the beautiful guitar before her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was looking at. "Sam! Do you have any idea what this is?"

The blond just gave her a startled look. "Uh, it's a guitar...?"

Lynn rolled her eyes in exasperated amusement. "Of course it's a guitar, darlin', but, honey, this is a  _guitar_."

"I don't understand."

"Sam, this is a  _vintage Yamaha_. A CJ 838S acoustic, to be exact." She replied in awe as she lightly brushed her hand across it. "And it's in beautiful condition! Where did you find this?"

"My grandfather gave it to me, before he died." Sam said in return and Lynn continued fawning over it.

"We- _ell_ , darlin', you just got your family a huge chunk of change! This baby is worth about seven grand!"

Sam looked like he'd been struck by lightning.

He couldn't believe his ears. Seven freaking grand? For a moment, he was tempted to look around the store for cameras, but he could feel Lynn's excitement as she goggled over the instrument. He watched as she gently lifted it out of the case and traced the custom made swirling patterns along the body.

Despite the rush of happiness that came from knowing he could now help his family; the selfish part of Sam rose up and choked him. He hated seeing someone else hold his guitar. The jealousy wasn't a surprise, but even fighting to control his feelings—the jealousy proved powerful.

It was depressing and nauseating for him to realize that he would rather take his guitar back and walk away, than trade it for seven grand—an amount of money that could change his family's lives. It made guilt swell up inside when he noticed that he was subconsciously planning to do just that. He turned his eyes away from Lynn who was still studying the instrument with growing interest.

"Well, it shows signs of wear, but it's a spectacular piece," she stated proudly, her fingers strumming the strings. "How long have you had it, darlin'?"

"Uh, nine years."

"Wow! Honey, that's incredible!" she said, "I've seen kids buy brand new guitars from my shop and they waltz in here days later with more damage than this. I'm truly impressed. You've taken great care of it."

"Yeah," Sam muttered, "thanks." His throat was tight and Lynn must have picked up on his discomfort because she shot him a soft smile as she placed the guitar back into its case.

"Alright darlin', I'll buy your guitar." She told him, but then she placed her hand on her hip and wagged a finger in his direction. "But don't you go around telling all those youngsters that they can shoot me some puppy eyes and I'll buy their merchandise. You only won me over because of those pretty green eyes of yours, darlin'."

Sam blushed at the compliment and gave her a sad quirk of the lips. Lynn only smiled at him. "Let me go grab my check book." She walked from behind the counter and into a back room.

Sam followed her with his eyes. Lynn was really pretty.

He blushed furiously before glancing down at his guitar. The urge to grab it and hightail it out of there was strong, but he thought of his family and how much this would mean to them—especially his mom.

Sam wasn't oblivious. He'd noticed how withdrawn she'd seemed—at least whenever she and his dad weren't arguing over what to do next. He hated that this stress was changing them so much, and Sam wasn't going to lie—he was a mama's boy. Or he had been before all this started.

Sam placed his hand on the guitar case, just taking it all in, because despite his urges—he was going to do this. Lynn came back through the door and walked back up to the counter. He watched as she scribbled a number and asked him specifically how to spell his name, etc. They checked and double-checked everything together to make sure it was all correct and when they were both positive, Sam had to blink away tears.

Lynn closed up the guitar case and picked it up gingerly. Sam felt like there was something sitting on his chest. Before she could turn from the counter, Sam grabbed her hand. He jerked back when he realized what he had done.

"Uh, promise me that you'll take care of it?" he asked her and Lynn was silent for a moment before she nodded.

"I promise, Sam."

Sticking the check in his wallet, Sam cleared his throat. "Thank you, Miss Lynn."

"Chin up, darlin'. I don't plan on letting you down."

Lynn watched Sam take a deep breath before walking briskly from her shop. She had never felt this attached to a customer, but Sam looked like he'd just given up all the joy in the world.

Staring after him, she wished there was more she could do—or anything she could do at all.

***

**Saturday, April 2, 2011**

**The Motel Six**

**7:14PM**

That check felt like a two ton weight in his pocket. He couldn't believe that he'd wandered around aimlessly all day long, debating back and forth about cashing it. On one hand, this check could buy their family a hell of a lot of time if they budgeted correctly, but on the other hand—once he handed this check over—his guitar was gone forever.

He was still agonizing over this when he wandered inside the Evans' motel room.

" _Sammy!"_  His little sister's delighted cry made Sam snap out of his thoughts. He looked at the small girl as she bounded off the bed and ran to him, arms outstretched.

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips as she leapt at him. He caught her mid air and held her as she embraced him tightly. She pulled back from him a bit, her arms still around his neck.

"I missed you!" she said sadly, "I was  _so_  worried. I didn't see you leave this mornin'. And you didn't tuck me into bed and kiss me g'night yesterday."

Sam felt guilt twist his insides as she frowned at him. She was the cutest thing ever with her head full of bright blonde waves and huge cerulean eyes. He really needed to stop letting people down.

"I'm sorry, munchkin. I had some stuff I needed to do last night and this morning. Will you forgive me?" he asked with an exaggerated pout. Stacey giggled at his expression.

"I forgive you," she said happily and Sam let out a loud cheer that made her giggle some more.

"Thank you!  _Thank you so much_!" he wailed dramatically before tossing the small girl in the air lightly. Stacey squealed when he caught her before she collapsed into childish laughter when he tickled her.

"Sammy! Stop it!"

Stacey laughed through her words and Sam finally relented when she was practically crying. He smiled at her and she dropped her head onto his shoulder and cuddled into his arms. Sam kissed the top of her head and walked far enough into the room that he could drop onto the bed next to Stevie, who was lying prone on the bed.

The seven-year old looked up from the comic book he was reading and glanced away from Sam without a word. But Sam had seen the flash of hurt in the boy's blue eyes before he went back to reading.

Stevie's silence only compounded Sam's guilt. He may have been doing what was best for his family money wise, but he had completely neglected them emotionally. Sam had momentarily forgotten how attached Stacey and Stevie were to him in his fit of selfishness.

The three of them had always been close, but since this had all started, they'd clung to him more than normal. He was with them practically night and day.

He made them breakfast, packed their lunches, got them dressed and took them to school. He helped them with their homework, feed them snacks and dinner. He entertained them with fun stuff, comforted them when they had nightmares, and tucked them in at night. His parents were gone from early morning to late night—his mom got back the latest and his dad usually came back around six. It was almost as though  _he was the parent_.

If he was honest with himself, the thought scared the shit out of him. He didn't even think about it when he'd left this morning. His mother stayed home on Saturdays and Sundays, while his dad drove out of town to look for work. He usually didn't come back until early Monday mornings on the weekends.

But Sam usually worked Saturdays, so he didn't see why today was so different.

Sam awkwardly shifted closer to Stevie on the bed, Stacey still sitting in his lap, curled into his arms.

"Superman?" he called his brother by his nickname and Stevie tensed. "What's wrong bro?"

The little boy didn't answer for a minute so Sam spoke again, "Look, superman, I can't fix anything if I don't know what's wrong."

"You promised," Stevie accused him and Sam was taken aback by the hostile tone. Sam thought back, wondering what he was talking about when he finally remembered how he'd promised Stevie that he would help him with his science project yesterday. With everything going on inside his head, he had totally forgotten about it.

"I'm sorry—"Sam was cut off by Stevie muttering under his breath.

"I'm hearing that a lot lately." The resentful tone in his brother's words pissed Sam off more than he'd like to admit. Stacey apparently felt him tense up because she tightened her arms around his neck.

" _Hey!"_  Sam barked at his brother, who looked at him with wide eyes. "I know you're upset about me breaking my promise but don't you dare start talking shit, Stevie. I work my butt off to make your life bearable and a little gratitude is not misplaced. I don't care how angry you are, but respect is a part of life and you better start using it."

Stevie's blue eyes were teary and his lips trembled, but he looked remorseful about what he'd said and Sam decided that the kid had been scolded enough. He was only seven after all, and he found himself in a completely different situation than he was used to. A situation he probably didn't even understand that well. Stevie and Stacey had actually been amazing to adapting, and the kid was bound to slip up once in awhile.

"Come here, superman," he said softly.

Stevie dropped Sam's old comic book and crawled across the bed to his brother's side. Sam wrapped an arm around his shoulders and the boy hid his face in Sam's shoulder. He laid a kiss atop the baby fine blonde hair on Stevie's head. "I  _am_  sorry, Stevie. I didn't mean to break my promise. We'll have to do it tomorrow, okay?"

He got a nod in response. "Now let's dry those tears, and we can watch a movie."

Sam was suddenly childless as the two dived towards the small box of DVDs they had kept.

"Princess and the Frog!"

"Spiderman!"

Twin glares were exchanged, but Sam just stood over them and said, "How about Avatar?"

_"No!"_ Well, apparently there was something they could agree on. Sam looked at them in mock offense.

"What's wrong with Avatar?"

"I don't want to watch blue people, Sammy!" Stacey cried in indignation. Stevie only gave her a sarcastic smirk.

"But you want to watch green people?" he teased and Stacey smacked him on the arm.

"Says the boy who wants to watch some other boy dance around in red ballet tights!"

"They're not ballet tights and he's not dancing!"

The two leapt at each other, about to break into sibling fisticuffs, but Sam caught them both and tossed them over each shoulder. "No fighting!" he cried before he span around in circles making the two laugh aloud. After a few spins, he tossed them on the bed where they landed in a giggling heap of arms and legs.

"Let's watch Cars," Sam compromised and when two cheers went up, he knew he had made the right selection. Popping the DVD in the player, Sam's mother—Elizabeth walked out of the bathroom. Her cheeks were flushed with steam from the shower and she was dressed in clean clothes.

She gave Sam a tired, but happy smile. "Hello Samuel," she greeted and Sam grinned at her half-heartedly. "How was work?" she asked and Sam felt that check gain another ton in his pocket. He just observed her for a moment.

She had lost a lot of weight. She looked almost frail and far too clammy. Her blonde hair hung limply against her shoulder and her once bright blue eyes—looked a stormy grayish blue color. Sam found it disconcerting. Even more so when he could barely recognize the joyous woman that had at one time been Elizabeth Evans.

Poverty and stress had taken its toll on his mother. She barely even spoke anymore and rarely showed affection to him—much less Stevie and Stacey. It was like she was withdrawing into herself. Sam knew that his dad was trying to make it better, but he was just as lost as Sam was. Just looking at her, Sam almost reached into his pocket to hand her the check, but her next words stopped him.

"Wait—didn't you leave with your guitar this morning?" she asked, her voice tinged lightly with confusion.

He had a really bad feeling about this—one he couldn't shake. So he lied. That's right; he lied directly to his mother's face. He was such a selfish bastard.

"Yeah," he shrugged nonchalantly trying not to look suspicious, "I let my friend Finn borrow it. His string broke and he needs to prepare a song for Glee on Monday."

"Why didn't he just buy a new one?" Sam sensed the bitterness in her tone. It made him uncomfortable.

"He doesn't have the money for it," he told her and Elizabeth shrugged, but he was sure that he'd seen a flash of disbelief in her eyes.

"Okay," she said, before walking over to the kitchen table, sitting down and opening a newspaper to the job section.

Sam watched her with sadness for a moment. His mother—the woman who used to be his best friend—was wilting before his eyes. He'd always known that poverty destroyed lives, but he'd never seen it firsthand.

Looking at the wisp of Elizabeth Evans that remained, he felt like he was staring at it face to face. And boy was it heartbreaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on:  
> Tumblr: [IamTellNoOne](http://iam-tellnoone.tumblr.com/)  
> WordPress: [Stephanie Rhesa](http://stephanierhesa.wordpress.com/)  
> Twitter: [@StephanieITA](https://twitter.com/StephanieITA)  
> Facebook: [Stephanie Rhesa](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Rhesa/302270376473191)

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @StephanieITA  
> Tumblr: iam-tellnoone.tumblr.com  
> WordPress: stephanierhesa.wordpress.com  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Rhesa/302270376473191


End file.
